So we’ve been up to a lot of things in the week since I last wrote here. The potty learning is still happening, and I was informed by my manager at work not to go spreading around the news that M is pooping on the toilet because I will most certainly be hated among all parents of wobblers and toddlers alike who have yet to get to that point. But honestly? It’s really just something that’s sort of a hobby right now. We’ve been averaging about 1.5 poops on the potty per day. Which means that approximately 1.5 poops still happen in the diaper. And I guess a .500 is a pretty good average, but it’s not like our baby’s totally housebroken or anything. The last couple of days, he’s actually gotten a little bit mad sitting up on the bowl, so I’ve been backing off a little. Because the last thing I want is for him to associate the bathroom with upsetting emotions. As amazed and excited and enthusiastic as I was when he started pooping on the pot, I do try to remember that he’s only nine months old, and there really is no rush for this sort of thing.
In other news, last night he was being a hardcore crankypants, so we stuck an ice-cold teether in his mouth, which seemed, for the first time ever, to actually calm him down and soothe him. Obvious conclusion: teething. For real this time. Maybe. So we braced ourselves for a night full of wake-ups. Instead, he woke at around 11:30, when James went in to get him back to sleep. He woke again at around 12-something, but before I actually made it into the room, he’d quieted, and when I peeked in the door, his head was kind of wedged into the corner of the crib, but he was perfectly sound asleep (and yes, still breathing). The next time I heard a peep was 5:00 this morning. But what a peep it was! He didn’t fall back to sleep until around 6:00, when he came to lie next to me in my bed and nurse because neither James nor I could actually get him sleeping again in the crib. We actually slept another hour in there, which never happens in the morning anymore, and when I woke up and stuck my finger in his mouth, there was a sharp little pointy thing right there. One night of teething, and not even a bad one. I hope the rest of the teeth come through like this. Because that will totally make every single parent on the planet hate me even more. Rock!
So on Tuesday, we had our usual play group, followed by lunch with three of the other moms and their babies at Panera. It was fun because while we do gab some about babies and various parenting issues, milestones and the like during the group, it’s mostly focused on the book we’re reading and discussion related to the themes of the book. And it’s always nice to do some extra socializing.
On Wednesday, M and I drove up to the Fairfax area to meet up with one of the moms from the same Tuesday group and go swimming. Every time we go to the pool, M enjoys it even more than the last time. I should really take him out more often, but adding to a baby’s daily schedule is often more difficult than it seems. It was nice, though, to have some one-on-one time with this other mom, because we seem to click fairly well. We’re in agreement about a lot of things, and both of us are participating in this particular group more for the social outlet than for the spiritual one, though we’re open to that other stuff too. It’s too bad that she lives such a hike from us, but it’s not like it’s anything we can’t overcome in the name of friendship. Because at least Fairfax is closer than, say, San Diego or Los Angeles.
Thursday I worked, and M kind of almost barely took one step on his own in the morning before I left. And yesterday, I had a dentist appointment that was made before I realized that James was actually going to be working during the day instead of his usually Friday night shift. So I had to leave M with someone else. For the first time. Ever. I brought along everything I could think of that he might possibly need or want or would distract him if he reached a point of crisis, but at the same time, I was fairly certain that he would be just fine. And I was right. For just under two hours, he puttered around a room in the home of another mommy from our Tuesday group while she played with him and her own 3-month-old. When I came back to pick him up, she expressed how impressive it was that he had absolutely zero meltdowns, even if he ever realized I wasn’t around. I must admit, I was very proud of him, but I also know that it could have easily gone the other way if he hadn’t gotten a good nap and feeding in beforehand. As it was, the timing was just perfect because all we usually do at that time of day is play anyway. Later on, as I mentioned, his mouth hurt, and I could totally sympathize because dental work sure does a number on one’s pie hole. At least I was able to take a pain reliever. We didn’t have anything for poor little M, but he handled it like a champ anyway. He always does.